


Scarlet

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, blood tw, quickbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro saves Remy's life during a mission, and Remy takes care of Pietro after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post on Tumblr about beaten up and bloody Pietro. This is more bloody, furious Pietro than anything else (though a little beaten up.) Also inspired by that quote in Son of M where Crystal talks about the consequences of being loved by Pietro. Enjoy!

Pietro was on his hands and knees. He looked up at Remy, his teeth bared in a snarl, his eyes full of fury. Arms coated to the elbows in blood, hair streaked with scarlet, not all of it his own. Remy couldn't look away. 

The corpses of the people they'd been fighting surrounded them both. Lorna was kneeling over Doug, who'd been injured not long before Remy had almost been exploded to pieces. Almost, because Pietro had gotten him out of the way in time and proceeded to fight the remaining enemies without mercy. 

“We have kept the peace,” Danger said. “The mission is over.” 

Remy laughed, finally breaking his gaze away from Pietro. “I don't think so, or don't you see all the blood 'round here?” 

“There is blood,” Danger agreed, “but there will be no more fighting.” 

Remy glanced at Pietro, who'd leaned back onto his knees and was turning his arms over, examining them. 

“We should go,” Remy said. 

*  
Lorna kept throwing glances Pietro's way. Pietro was sitting apart from everyone else, staring out the plane window, now sticky with dried blood. 

Doug was still unconscious, his head in Warlock's lap. Georgia sat next to Remy, looking down at her hands. 

Remy nudged her. “You okay, kid?” 

“No,” Georgia said. “That was a bit...much.” 

“Understatement of the year,” Remy muttered. “That's the price of joining a team of heroes. You see sh—stuff.” 

Georgia frowned at him. “Really?” 

“I gotta retain some semblance of being a protective guardian,” Remy told her. 

Lorna elbowed Remy in the side. “You,” she whispered, “when we get home. Talk. To. Him.” She jerked her head in Pietro's direction. 

Remy nodded. “D'you think Serval covers therapy?” 

“If they don't,” Lorna said, “I know a guy. You need it?” 

“I'm just saying,” Remy said, “the kid's seen a lot today.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And your brother hasn't said a word since we left.” 

 

“Your boyfriend,” Lorna said. “Look, I have to deal with the whole team. I have to get Doug to the medical ward and make sure he's patched up. I have to make sure Georgia isn't traumatized--”

“I can hear you,” Georgia said. 

“As can I,” Pietro said, and they all looked at him in shock. He turned towards them, grimacing. “Discretion is not something either of you two have mastered.”

“You're the one who's being quiet,” Lorna said. “Leaving us to figure out if there's something wrong with you.” 

Pietro scoffed. “There's nothing wrong with me. I just don't feel the need to fill time with inane chatter.” 

“You exploded two guys with their own bomb,” Remy said, and Georgia flinched. He covered her ears and added, “and impaled several more, and traumatized Georgia, all because they almost killed me.” 

“You'd rather be dead?” Pietro asked. “A thank you would be nice.” 

“We,” Remy said, “are going ta have words.” 

“I only have two,” Pietro said. “Your. Welcome.” 

“You. Me. Later.” Remy took his hands away from Georgia's ears. 

“Georgia,” Pietro said, “if it means anything, I am sorry you had to witness it.” 

“I'm more worried about Doug than anything else. And it was gonna happen eventually,” Georgia said. She added, quietly, “That's what I keep telling myself.” 

“Doug is stable,” Warlock assured her. “Self-friend will be fine once returned to Serval.” 

“Doug is lucky,” Remy said. “Doug doesn't have ta hear all the ways this mission went ta crap.” 

“Doug is unconscious,” Lorna said. “And you will be, too, if you don't shut up.” 

*

“You and your sisters are downright terrifying when you're angry,” Remy said, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. 

Pietro jumped up from where he'd been sitting on the toilet, his uniform stripped down to his waist. “What the hell are you doing in here? I locked that door!” 

“I'm a thief,” Remy said. “And we need ta talk.” 

“We don't,” Pietro said, taking a step towards him, “need to talk. I need--” His face suddenly paled, his eyes rolled back, and Remy caught him as he fell. 

He lowered Pietro to the ground and assessed the situation. Pietro's chest was covered in dried blood, as were his arms. Remy grabbed a towel, wet it, and began wiping away at the blood. He hit a gash on Pietro's side, just below his ribs, causing Pietro to jerk and nearly hit his head on the sink. 

“Easy,” Remy muttered, tossing the towel aside. “You lost a lot of blood. Or rather, you ended up with all of it on you instead of inside you or inside someone else.” 

Pietro sat up, wincing, curling an arm protectively around his side. 

“I can stitch that,” Remy said, “and then you can take a shower or something.” 

“I can stitch it myself,” Pietro said. Remy was already gathering the first aid materials. 

“Maybe,” he said, “but you just passed out so...I'd rather you not. Plus your hands got blood all over them. And it might not be yours, which might not be sanitary, so...” That was true. Remy washed his own hands and knelt down again. “Lemme see.” 

Pietro glared at him but allowed Remy to examine the wound. It was deep, bleeding sluggishly, but didn't seem to have hit anything essential. 

“It will heal before morning,” Pietro said. 

“But for our purposes now,” Remy said, “this'll stop the bleeding and keep it from re-opening or getting infected. And don't worry, the stitches dissolve when the wound closes on its own. So we won't have ta have a repeat session.” 

“Truly a blessing,” Pietro muttered. He didn't make a sound when Remy cleaned the wound, and continued to be silent as Remy stitched it up. 

“You're a braver man than I,” Remy said. “Painful, this is.” He wiped his hands off and put the first aid kit away. 

Gingerly, Pietro stood. “I have a high pain tolerance,” he said. “Anesthesia and most painkillers don't work with my metabolism. Any injury is dealt with while I'm awake and mostly aware. I've learned to adapt.” 

Or learned not to scream, Remy thought. He shrugged off his jacket (which was going to need some good dry-cleaning) and watched Pietro turn on the shower, then strip off the rest of his uniform. He tossed it into a corner. The bathroom was starting to look like a crime scene. 

Remy began to take off his own uniform. 

“Oh, no,” Pietro said. “We are most certainly not--” 

“Relax,” Remy said. “I wanna make sure you don't pass out and hit your head and die. Ain't nothing sexual.” 

“I won't pass out,” Pietro said, stepping under the water and bracing himself against the shower wall.

“You look ready for a repeat,” Remy said, stepping in after him. Pietro held his hands out and the water began eroding away the blood caked on his skin. Remy watched as it fell in a cascade of dark red, splattered against the floor, and snaked its way down the drain. 

A hitch of breath caught his attention and he looked up. 

Pietro was staring at the blood flowing off his body as well. He tried to step back, hit the wall, and slipped. Remy caught him and held him up. The other man was shaking, gasping. 

“It's okay,” Remy murmured, holding him close. “I'm glad you did what you did.” 

“I don't enjoy killing,” Pietro said weakly. “I couldn't let them kill you. But I don't...” He swallowed. “I don't want to be that man. Because I was once. I-was-a-man-who-could-kill-without-regret-and-I-was-a-monster-and-I'd-lost-control-and-I-can't-be-the-man-again.” 

“You're not,” Remy said. “I mean, yeah, you can go overboard when it comes ta the people you love. But it affects you. Just, maybe, tone it down a little.” 

Pietro didn't say anything. He let Remy brace him against the wall and run his fingers through his hair, coaxing the blood from Pietro's white strands until they were clean again. 

“Thank you,” Pietro said, when the water ran clear. 

“If you thought that'd get rid of me,” Remy said, “you were wrong.” He handed Pietro a towel and then took one himself, wrapping it around his waist. He moved towards the door when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“There are not many who would care to put up with me,” Pietro said, cupping Remy's cheek. “And not many who would put up with you, so we are evenly matched.” He kissed Remy's lips before he could respond, and Remy tasted the slightest hint of blood. “I would rather not be alone tonight.”

Then Pietro brushed past him, the door shut, and Remy was left standing there, holding the towel around his waist with two ruined uniforms to throw away.


End file.
